


help me hold on to you

by devourer_of_books



Series: all's well that ends well to end up with you [1]
Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: F/M, I actually wrote angst?, I have no idea if this is how monarchy works, Miscommunication, Someone Help These Two, as always we don't talk about book 4, communication is key: change my mind (you can't), hm hi new fic who this, so don't mind me just casually making this up as I go, tedros is insecure don't @him, there's some innuendo but its the tamest one in this series so?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devourer_of_books/pseuds/devourer_of_books
Summary: "Combat, I'm ready for combat,I say ‘I don't want that’, but what if I do?"Learning how to love each other is a life-long process.alternative title: Tedros and Agatha learn a thing or two about communication.
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil)
Series: all's well that ends well to end up with you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694776
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	help me hold on to you

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally going to be False God.  
> In my original draft, this was going to be a lot longer and a lot, hm, racier. But as I was writing it just got... kinda emotional and very angsty. False God no longer suited this work. So far, we've done Daylight (ballad about realizing you've found what you've been looking for) and Cruel Summer (high energy, catchy song about experimenting and having secret rendezvous), and now you have The Archer (vulnerable, emotional and slow build about learning how to open up). I'm keeping the original False God scenes and writing a direct continuation of this piece, so if you don't mind some spice, keep tuned for that maybe later this week or the next.  
> This is placed in the 'all's well that ends well to end up with you' universe, months prior to 'always waiting for you to be waiting below', and it's the birthday Agatha mentions briefly there.

“What do you say, your majesty?” Lord Permbershire inquires, his dull stare burning through Tedros, daring him to say no.

Sirens had been blaring in his mind from the very moment the minister proposed throwing a _royal party_ , of all things, for Agatha’s birthday. Tedros _knows_ this can’t possibly end well.

He had hoped such proposal would be followed by a bad presentation, one that he could turn down without much fuss, before moving on to the next topic (new regulation laws for leather-based goods), which he was also uninterested in discussing, but wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as this one. However, as usual, Lord Pembershire’s idea made sense and he had a presentation too well structured to be ignored. Tedros shifts in his seat at the House of Lords, gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles turn white, before letting go, schooling his expression into aloof neutrally.

The previous year, in the midst of the utter chaos during his first months post-coronation, he and Agatha (with the assistance of Merlin) had been able to shift away the ministers’ attention from the most... _social_ aspects of diplomacy (also known as the art of hosting and attending events), in favor of prioritizing fixing the crumbling infrastructure and internal politics of the kingdom. Since then, they’ve come quite the long way, as in, _no longer in the brick of anarchy_ and now with a semi-stable government (which was great). He knew that once that was out of the way, it would be a matter of time before people started demanding more public appearances, royal birthday parties included (which wasn’t as great).

He can’t really blame them. After all, Camelot wouldn’t be Camelot without parties.

When one mentions Camelot, the first things to come to mind were something along: top-notch knights, incredible tournaments, lush balls, legendary riches, bottomless bravery, great festivals… etc. The people here were known for being warm, charming and welcoming social creatures. Traditional parties were an intrinsic part Camelot-culture, and everyone wanted to see the kingdom restored to its old glory, parties included.

Again, Tedros can’t blame them for wanting more parties. He too, just like most habitants of Camelot, loved parties. He just wishes they were a bit more… flexible with people who don’t. Like his fiancée, for instance.

During her first birthday in Camelot, Agatha managed to convince the ministers that they shouldn’t waste resources on her birthday because she wasn’t _officially_ engaged to Tedros. Which was a bunch of _nonsense_ but worked regardless. Yet, now she was. The wedding itself had no date, sure, but they were going to get married _someday_ , come hell or high water. Agatha was now a member of the Camelot’s royal family, and it was tradition to have a huge celebration on a royal birthday. Not just a formal ball (like the one thrown for their engagement, which had been torture for Tedros, _who actually liked parties_ , let alone for Agatha), but a full-on celebration that could last up to a week.

He’s aware of the great effort Agatha has been putting into learning the kingdom’s culture and acknowledging her duties to it. In the past two months alone, she became the main royal representative at popular council, had attended five diplomatic conferences, three of them on her own, established a wine-trade treaty with Maidenvale and started composing her own propositions and documents for the council (even if they had to be signed under his name, for legal reasons). All of that on top of her history and etiquette lessons with Merlin. She was trying her best and Tedros loved her for it.

To just dump this on her now seemed like _too much_.

…Of course, it would be great for the economy, attract many tourists, boast the spirits of the people, reassure the more conservative parcel of the House of Lords, proportionate chances for networking and creating stronger bonds with other nations as well as be a good opportunity for the non-political nobles to get acquainted with the future queen. Pembershire even brought out graphics and statistics, proving Tedros’ theory that the man must be a robot. Or he just didn't have anything better to do in his free time. Maybe both.

It was the _perfect plan_ for a _perfect event_.

…One that Agatha would have no way whatsoever of escaping from (as she probably would want to) without accidentally seeming like a horrid hostess. Which would be bad, not only for a queen in general, but especially bad for the Queen of _Camelot_.

Tedros starts to sweat, wishing, not for the first time, that they had gotten married already. Until the day she was officially crowned, Agatha technically wasn’t allowed in the House of Lords, and right know, if he had to guess, she should be at the popular council, not even suspecting that he’s about to dig her grave.

“Your majesty?” Lord Pembershire pressed, monotonously, and Tedros’ sweating intensifies as all eyes in the room turn to him.

On one hand, Agatha would be rightfully upset that he approved such a thing, especially because he knows how much she hates being in the spotlight and a royal party is a very _long_ party.

On the other, if he didn’t approve it, the ministers would hold this over his head for months and he would lose a great opportunity to improve their external relations politics. (Also, Pembershire’s proposal sounded like one fantastic royal party to attend… and Tedros _loves_ parties.)

So, Tedros approves the minister’s plan, on the condition of limiting the party to _five-days-max_. The tension in the room dissolves as the lords now talk about the new policy for leather, leaving Tedros to space out, thinking of how in the world he’d break the news to the birthday girl herself.

.

.

.

Agatha does not take the news very well. Mostly because Tedros doesn’t break them to her _at all._ Oh no. Instead, she is informed of such a development during one of her tutoring sessions with Merlin.

To give the wizard some credit, he didn’t do it on purpose. He probably thought that Tedros had briefed her on the situation, or least mentioned to her (given it had been decided _two weeks ago_ , it would be _logical_ to assume that he would have). He just guessed she wouldn’t be too surprised to receive a long list of hosting traditions she’d have to study, memorize and perform, as well as a big binder containing all the info on what had already been decided about her birthday party. You know, that _five-days-four-nights-long_ birthday party that she wasn’t aware of until a minute ago?

He apologizes to her, reading the confusion on her face, but Agatha’s brain is already buzzing, not quite sure how to react, alternating between feeling a lot at once and not feeling much at all. She gets up from their usual spot in the library, mumbling the first excuse she can think of (something along the lines of _oh, I, just… bathroom…now_ ) before walking away, binder in hand. Merlin doesn’t point out that she is headed towards the gardens and not the bathroom or force her to come back to get the list, and for that she is thankful.

For a split second she considers going after Tedros to ask him why in the world did he think it would be a good idea to keep this from her, but ultimately decides to calm down before confronting him.

The sight of Agatha trying to gather her thoughts while wandering through the nearly 1,500 acres of gardens wasn’t uncommon by any means, for it was usually effective, if not exhausting. Today, she doesn’t go too far, choosing to sit down under a pine, hidden from view, to avoid the gardeners. There seemed to be a lot more of them than usual these last few days… _Oh_. For the party. _Right_. Makes sense. Added to the list of things to be annoyed about later.

Agatha is a reasonable person, if nothing else. She knows Tedros probably didn’t have much choice on whenever or not that would be a party. People liked parties around here, it was to be expected. It was by sheer luck that she’d been able to avoid one last year. She can’t be mad at him for that, specifically, as much as she wants to be.

She still had been hoping it wouldn’t be a five-day-party. A quick look through the binder tells her this one is going to be as big as Tedros’s first birthday party as King of Camelot, a few months before. Which sounded absolutely horrifying because that had been one of the most stressful weeks of her entire life (and that was saying _a lot_ ).

The entirety of Camelot and their grandmother, as well as guests and tourists from other ever kingdoms (and some never kingdoms) had showed up for the festivities. Every single guest room at the castle had been occupied and all inns and taverns were filed to the brim. The music was impossibly loud and went on and on, day after day, uninterrupted, to the point that Agatha was sure the musicians must have been under some sort of spell. People drank like it was the end of the world, then proceeded to dance and eat as much as they could before barfing like it was the end of the world. There had been horse races at the fields, small market fairs at the gardens, tournaments between royal knights and foreigners at the training fields, banquets at the dining halls and even a boat parade at the castle’s private canal.

Yet, despite all that going on, she still found herself oscillating between anxiousness and boredom, desperate to get away from the public eye. It had been _impossible_ to get a hold of Tedros during the party, not only because the palace had been so crowded, but because when she did manage to find him he was either asleep or surrounded by the many, many people vying for his attention and approval. How Agatha managed to survive that week without any _major_ incidents was a mystery, but probably had to do with the fact that Sophie had been visiting and was all too happy to distract Agatha from her misery.

Lord, how glad she’d been once that entire thing was over and she could finally hear her own thoughts again.

Ideally, for her birthday, she just wanted a quiet day. Maybe get a day-off, for once not have to do any paperwork or worry about infringing protocol. Just have fun with her friends, eat a delicious dinner with her loved ones and then maybe get some time alone time with her fiancé. Because she _missed_ him. Not only because it had been weeks since they did anything other than chaste kissing and handholding, but because they haven’t spent any time together, just the two of them, lately.

Technically, Agatha saw him nearly everyday. But…it just…wasn’t the same. Well, she saw _King Tedros_ nearly everyday. But her fiancé, _Tedros_ , the boy she loved… he was much rarer to come across these days. Sneaking out became a lot less common due to their heavy workload, and so, their every interaction, exchange, conversation, gesture and gaze happened under the vigilance of the courts’ prying eyes.

 _It sucked_.

It felt so…artificial. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what is was about it that bothered her so much until it dawned on her that royal life was probably meant to feel like that. It sure sounded like it when Sophie told her about her dreamlife as queen. It made sense. _This_ , this felt like something right out of Sophie’s dreams. Sophie, who needed an audience, who needed things to be staged, always perfect. Her friend, who dreamed of courts and balls and dresses and festivals…

…Of that crown, the very one sitting heavily on her head. A crown that was pure metal, adorned with gemstones, just like the nobles in court. Forged to perfection, not a hair out of place. A persona to maintain, with lots of ulterior motives and complicated agendas.

Shiny and sharp, unnaturally so.

Agatha no longer thought of herself _unable_ to be a queen. Yes, Agatha could become a queen. She was like ore; she has the essence to become metal. She just needed some mining, some shaping, some melting. She could become metal… she just… wishes she didn’t have to. Wishes things could just be simple. But real life was never simple.

So no, Agatha wasn’t upset about the party itself.

_(Well, maybe she was a bit pissed about it, because she’s only human, but still.)_

No, she was way angrier with the fact that Tedros hadn’t warned her. Or talked to her about it. Or left her a note. Anything. The King of Camelot is busy but he’s not _that_ busy. She _knows_ he’s probably avoiding her on purpose for…?

She can’t even think of what reason he could possibly have (it unfortunately happened a lot these days).

It was rude…and childish…and disrespectful…and… well, _hurtful._

He loves her. She knows he loves her. Logically, she knows.

But then he goes and does things like this, that make her feel like he just can’t be bothered with her. Like she is just another piece he acquired for his perfect court set, his queen who is 100% Good, with a capital G, but not good enough for much else.

…Like he was becoming more and more metallic.

_Well, wasn’t he? Was it bad to wish he wasn’t? To wish Tedros was as imperfect as her? He was the King, so technically, he had to be metal, to be able to be the best king he could be. She’d known all along he was a prince and should have seen this coming. Tedros was always meant to be King but he was also just a boy. He is both a king and her lover. It was crazy to think of them as two different people. One that was hers and another that was everyone else’s. And yet, she kinda does, doesn’t she?_

Agatha is a reasonable person, if nothing else. She finds comfort in facts and numbers. Most things could be explained under logic, but she supposes ‘feelings’ were part of the few that just couldn’t.

An entire afternoon passes by as she sulks under the tree, unsure of what she should do or how she should feel.

.

.

.

Agatha locks her door out of habit, even after the guards posted outside her room guaranteed her no one will dare bother her. Then, she takes a long breath, the leftovers of her anger dissipating, making room for other emotions to take over.

For the first night in days, the castle is completely silent and she’s not sure how she feels about it. The quiet has always been her friend, but tonight... Tonight, the silence doesn’t bring her any peace of mind whatsoever.

She greets Reaper’s sleeping form on the couch, checking if he had already eaten (yes, he had). As usual, she goes check her windows, making sure her curtains are tightly closed.

Agatha is alone now, but it never truly feels like it when she’s in the castle. Not in… a good way. It feels a bit like being monitored in a solitary cell, (she’d take graveyards over that any day). Maybe it’s because all the rooms are so unnecessarily huge? The ceilings are high, and every single piece of furniture seems so isolated from each other. The sense of space is unnerving in its magnitude, almost as if daring her to actually feel comfortable at her own room.

Tonight, it feels a bit less empty because of the many presents she received over the course of the week taking up a good chunk of it. Agatha makes a note to open them tomorrow and write some reply letters to her friends, as well as some polite thanks to political allies. She planned to do so this night, but honestly… she wasn’t in the mood for it.

Agatha doesn’t bother to call a maid to help her change and decides that she might as well undress right there. The lacing is unfairly tricky to undo by herself (as were most of her dresses these days, to her annoyance and Tedros’ amusement), but she manages to untie enough of it for the silver dress to slip off her body, pooling around her feet. _This one is very pretty_ , she thinks to herself, absentmindedly. They all were, but this one was definitely her favorite out of the four. Probably because it was the least shiny.

Lethargically, she rids herself of undergarments and picks out some sleepwear. The temptation to just put it on and fall asleep is big, but the thought of getting silver powder all over her clean sheets stops her. With a sigh, she resigns to the bathroom, waiting for the bathtub to fill as she inspects herself in the (also unnecessarily big) mirror.

Agatha has never been a fan of mirrors, especially when naked, but she finds herself lingering in front of it, entranced.

Her the majority of her upper body, including a big portion of her face and hair, is covered in sparkly silver powder, matching the silver and diamonds of the diadem upon her head. The powder sticks to her sweaty skin, giving it a metallic glow, different from the shiny look she sported under the moonlight earlier, but alluring, nonetheless. She looks like an ethereal creature, some otherworldly beauty… like someone else entirely. In way, it feels fitting.

It itches quite a bit when she tries to rub it off her arm, and for a moment she worries for Tedros, as he was probably having similar problems, if not worse ones, given he had been showing a lot more of skin than her, before deciding that itching might do him some good.

The theme for the party was, to no one’s surprise, not her choice. She didn’t hate it, though. Greek mythology was fine, and while Agatha probably wouldn’t have picked it herself, it wasn’t a horrid theme. _Could have been a lot worse_. She is the one who points out that Tedros should go as Apollo and not Zeus, like the council originally wanted, but they are the ones who decide that she should go as Artemis.

She initially refuses, thinking of other deities that might suit her better, such as Hestia, but complies after some of the younger seamstresses excitedly hand her their designs for four matching outfits, all gold (for him) and silver (for her). Tedros, a fan of both symbolism and shiny things, loves them right away and Agatha supposes she likes them well enough.

That’s pretty much all the say she had in planning the entire party.

As for the celebration itself… It was as stressful as predicted, as loud as expected, but somehow… even _sadder_ than she thought it would be.

She nearly cracks under the pressure during the first two days, absolutely overwhelmed by the crazy amount of scents, people and noises. She is never bored, as she was during Tedros’ birthday; there’s always something she must do, someone must talk to, a new drink she must try, a ceremonial tradition she must take part in, a story she must share, a speech she must deliver, a race she must bet on, a blessing she must give to a knight, a smile she must fake.

By the third day, she thinks she has grown used to it and instead of anxious, Agatha is _bitter_. Everyone looks like they are having the time of their life, and while she _knows_ it’s wrong to think so, she can’t help but find it unfair. Unfair that they get to enjoy her birthday and she doesn’t. Strangers laugh and dance around her while she spends the night by herself (not physically, but she might as well have been), for not a single close friend of hers was able to come to Camelot for the celebration (even Merlin was out of town in diplomatic business).

And what of Tedros, may you ask.

What of Tedros, indeed.

She and Tedros haven’t been in the best terms for a while, so it wasn’t shocking that he wasn’t around much during the party. They haven’t outright fought or anything. She almost wishes they had, because for that to be possible, they would need to be in speaking-terms in the first place.

The two of them had grown distant, much like the sun and the moon. Agatha will take some of the blame for that; she had been giving the boyish king the cold shoulder for some time now. Barely acknowledging him when he came to apologize for approving the party without talking to her beforehand hadn’t helped, but… but that wasn’t why she’d been mad at him in the first place!

Yet, Tedros definitely took offence for that, because he didn’t try to talk to her more than strictly necessary for the following weeks. She doesn’t reach out either.

It doesn’t make her feel any better in the slightest, actually, it makes her feel even worse. Mostly because she knows she isn’t being fair, it’s too much ado over a _party_ , but honestly, it’s not about the party anymore. The birthday thing is just their current excuse.

And so, she spends a good chunk of the celebration glaring silently at him, watching him have fun and run around with strangers, whom to him are his old friends. She can’t name a single one, but she’d already decided that they suck and she hates them all (well, not really, she’s sure they must be lovely people, but her feelings are all over the place and she needs a punching bag). Her irritation was palpable during the entire event, but never quite as much as it had tonight.

The fourth day was the date of Agatha’s actual birthday and the one she anticipated the most, because it was the last night of actual _partying_ , with the fifth day being dedicated to farewells and formalities, as well as a clean-up day in general. The good feeling of the approaching end to this madness was enough to give her some objectivity during the beginning of the evening:

She needed to talk to Tedros soon or they were going to destroy their relationship over a party, of all things.

But _that_ plan goes out the window the moment she does find him.

He wishes her happy birthday, they toast and dance, but… it doesn’t feel _genuine_. He hasn’t spoken a word to her in days, and suddenly he was all easy smiles and kisses on cheeks. This is King Tedros doing what would look good for his image and not her fiancé wanting to spend time with her because he thought it would make her happy. Maybe it’s completely staged, maybe it’s not. It does not matter, because Agatha is upset regardless.

So when he shows up later, after everyone had gone to sleep, to invite her for a _walk_ so they could talk, with a boyish smile and no jacket, it’s already _too late_ and a miracle is the only thing keeping her from going for his throat.

On another occasion, she might have jumped at the opportunity to walk the gardens in the middle of the night with him: to be alone together, to lie in the grass looking at the stars, talking about everything they weren’t allowed to talk about, kissing and hugging, completely unsupervised, you know, like a common couple. Her ideal birthday evening.

She was _furious_. How dare he offer her everything she wanted after all that pretense earlier. After the last four days. After the last few weeks, really.

But she chooses to swallow the bitter taste of resentment, instead saying _no_ , mumbling that she is _too tired, Tedros, see you in the morning_. He looks hurt but doesn’t insist, and she almost wishes he did, for as she stalked down the halls towards her room, regret and longing slowly filled up her heart.

Now, more than ever, she finds herself wishing Tedros had insisted. Because it’s _her birthday_ and here she is, _alone_ , crying in a bathtub, desperately trying to get silver powder out of her hair.

.

.

.

Tedros didn’t mean to find the letter. He swears.

A couple of days had gone by since Agatha’s birthday and the castle and its inhabitants were back to routine. Including Tedros, whose workload had accumulated so much he could no longer see anything beyond the piles of endless documents gathered in the study. It was one downside of hosting such long parties: paperwork bowed to no man and kept coming regardless of whether it was getting done or not.

Usually he’d be annoyed at having so much to do, however, this time he actually found himself welcoming the heavy workload, for he was in desperate need of a distraction from his own thoughts.

Agatha’s cold behavior towards him seemed to _finally_ let up after the guests left the palace, but at this point, Tedros couldn’t tell anymore. He knew she was upset, yet he wasn’t sure _why_ and was even more unsure if he should bring it up. He’s very aware that they were still distant, but at least she wasn’t _completely_ freezing him out. Tedros and Agatha argued often, and it wasn’t uncommon for it to get _loud_ (not in the fun way) from time to time. That, he could work with. When she got _quiet,_ however, he never knew what to do. Which was unfortunate, since it usually when she was maddest at him.

Sometimes he wondered if she did it in purpose, if she knew it drove him up the wall and did it just to punish him, because it would hurt him way more than any amount of screaming ever would. It was one of his least favorite things about her, but he refrained from lashing out, as, _this time_ , whatever it was, it was probably his fault.

Tedros hadn’t been avoiding her in the first place! It’s just… he hadn’t been sure how to face her and started to put off telling her about the party. He didn’t like fighting with her and liked even less to fight with her when he knew he was in the wrong. Sure, technically, he didn’t have much choice over the matter of the party…but it still felt as if he had _failed her_. What good it was to have a fiancé who was head of the State if he couldn’t pull some strings to help you when you needed him?

He tried to apologize, after Merlin warned him that Agatha found out about the celebration and had been _‘distraught’_. But as that hadn’t exactly gone _well_ , Tedros decided to try a new approach: give her some space to sort it out herself and wait for her to come to him.

And so, he let her avoid him.

It wasn’t easy. Tedros often found himself longing for her, wishing they could just go back to the way things were when they first arrived at Camelot. And so, his temporary solution had been to bury himself in work and try not to think of her. For a while, it worked. But as day after day passed by, Tedros started to grow impatient, dark thoughts blossoming like thorny roses. Had he messed up _that_ badly? Or was Agatha just enjoying his suffering? Why couldn’t she just forgive him already? Or at the very least come talk to him about it?

An even darker thought lurked on the back of his mind that _maybe you don’t really want to know what the problem is_ : _she just grew tired of you_.

He decides that enough is enough when rumors of his _‘distress’_ and _‘irritation’_ during sessions at both the House of Lords and the popular council reach his ears. He’s pretty sure that even Lord Pembershire had flinched at the sound of his voice (which, had he not been pissed, Tedros would’ve found hilarious).

The two guards he encounters at the garden when looking for her share a panicked look as he asks of his fiancé’s whereabouts, probably unsure if King Tedros could charge them with treason for obeying her orders to not tell him anything at all. After a second, one of them mutters that _Lady Agatha might be at the kitchens_ , meaning she probably wouldn’t be there.

Tedros huffs but otherwise says nothing as he leaves the terrified pair of guards behind, headed to the private royal study. Camelot’s Royal Palace was truly an architectural masterpiece (even if he liked their Winter Palace a bit more, for personal reasons) but it was one hell of a big castle and there was no way he’d be able to track Agatha down on his own if she didn’t want him to find her. Luckily for him, he knows Agatha always writes down her schedule for the week, and even if she avoided him, there were places she simply would have no choice but to show up. He’s about 95% sure that it was somewhere in her desk at the study.

He speed-walks all the way there, only for his determination to halt as soon as he sits down in her chair, his hand frozen at the handle of the top drawer.

It feels _wrong_. Had their roles been reversed, Tedros wouldn’t like her going through his desk. Not that Agatha would ever search his drawers, for any reason, he knew that much. Oh no, if his time traveling from the School to Avalon during the war (with _Sophie_ of all people) had taught him anything about his fiancée, was that Agatha was _annoyingly righteous_ ; she would let him do _whatever_ until the truth came out, as it eventually would, then accept it for what is was and move onwards as best as she could.

…But Agatha has always been a _better person_ than him and if he didn’t confront her as soon as possible he thinks he might implode. Technically, he wasn’t _spying on her_ , just, you know, speeding up an inevitable confrontation, as one does when their future wife starts exhibiting weird behavior patterns.

So, he proceeds.

…Only to stop, with the drawer halfway open. _Like father like son_ , a dark voice whispers in his mind. A powerful wave of nausea overtakes him and Tedros stands up in a snap, as if the golden handle had suddenly sent an electric current up his arm. He stumbles back, the back of his knees hitting the chair and he grips the tabletop instinctively, trying to keep himself straight.

It’s at this moment that his eyes land on the letter.

He doesn’t mean to pry, but his name screams to him amidst the paragraphs written in Agatha’s messy, unofficial handwriting, so different from the one she writes her documents with. She writes _Tedros_ , not King Tedros, and he realizes this is meant to be a personal letter to someone. His curiosity takes the best of him and he finds himself scanning the pages, trying to read though the chaotic scribbles.

It’s not a letter, per se. More like a rough draft. It occurs to him that there seems to be quite a few of them scattered between the documents on the table. Weirdly enough, most of them aren’t addressed to neither Sophie nor Hester, which were Agatha’s most usual addressees. Instead, _his mother_ ’s name sits at the very top of the pages.

He hadn’t heard much from neither his mom or Lancelot since the midsummer festival. After the bounty was lifted, they had opted to lay low for some time, visiting occasionally, planning on moving back to Camelot next year. The old queen _had_ encouraged both Tedros and Agatha to write to them in the meanwhile. But Tedros had thought that by that she mostly meant _Tedros_. His stomach drops as he thinks of what Agatha could be possibly writing to her about.

 _I’m conflicted… in need of some advice…_ _I’ve considered asking Merlin, but I feel like you’d be able to understand me better? Not that Merlin wouldn’t, I just… look I’m not even sure why am I writi…_

 _I’m not… unhappy here. I love Tedros, I want to be with him. I do. But sometimes I_ … _Lately, especially, I’ve been having some second thoughts messy feelings. I just feel very lost and lonely confused. It’s… One moment I’m completely fine and everything is great, but then I get angry and resentful overwhelmed. Is it a normal thing? Is this just how palace-life is supposed to feel? It kinda su... Does Tedros feel like this too?_

_I’ve never wanted to be a queen. I’ve never wanted any of this really. Sometimes I wish Tedros wasn’t a king. And it makes me feel terrible. It’s unfair of me to say such a thing. He wouldn’t be the person I love had he not… Everything would be easier... We could have this nice normal sized house that doesn’t feel like a church, and maybe open a shop or get a job around town, live a quiet life. But Tedros is who he is, he needs a queen and I want to be with him... Am I being selfish?_

_I think… I know I’m hurting both of us. We’ve been so distant…Again, it’s like.., There’s not really anything wrong, but I keep getting upset, so there is something wrong? Am I impossible to please? Should I just apologize? But apologize for what exactly? I mean, aside from being a bad partner, I guess._

_Should I even be writing to you? You left King Arthur because you loved Lancelot, who wanted the same things you wanted. But I can’t just leave King Tedros because I love Just Tedros, as much as I wi…_

Tedros’s nausea climbs back up his throat and he can’t read any longer. He wants to get Agatha here right this instant and ask her to explain and… and…

_Has he been pushing her away? Did he give her too much work? He just thought she could handle; she was doing such a fantastic job… Was it the party? Was he being too forceful with the royal stuff? Why wouldn’t she tell him this? …Was she only still with him out of duty? Was being with him truly this much of a burden? If that was the case…_

Maybe, had he been a better person, he would have marched down to confront Agatha. Instead, he chooses to bask in denial, locking himself up in his room for the rest of the day, pretending they’re both still living happily ever after.

.

.

.

Tedros knows he’s a hypocrite, okay? They both are.

For all his big talk of confronting Agatha the other day, he hasn’t done much confronting since finding her draft-letter to his mother. Instead, he tries his best to pretend as if nothing happened and goes on about his life. Things eventually settle back into semi-normalcy, not great but not bad either. No one is actively avoiding anyone, but no one is having any midnight rendezvous either.

 _It could be worse_ , he argues.

Which is why Tedros finds himself being an even bigger coward. It’s almost disgusting. He knows that they must address the elephant in the room, and the letter should have been an incentive to do so. Whatever has been happening in the last month is only a symptom of a much larger issue on their relationship. If she wanted to go, he needed to _let her go_. Caging her here would be cruel, dragging on suffering for both of them… and in service of _what_? An illusion? How long until that wasn’t enough?

Still, he _can’t_ let her go.

No, if anything, reading that letter makes him dig his heels in even deeper.

Agatha’s moral compass was so deeply rooted in _good_ that he knows she could never just get up and leave him in the middle of the night, like his mother had done. Not even if she _wanted to_. Oh, no. She would come to tell him she was leaving, explain why she thought that was the best for them, say that she cared for him but couldn’t stay… and probably not even think about getting on a horse before she had him convinced of that too.

So, when Agatha eventually does come to see him, in private, a handful of times, he cuts her off before she can say anything at all, kicking her out of his room. He is polite and gentlemanly but refuses the give her the opening. This type of clown behavior isn’t befitting of a good king in any way and it’s a bit too manipulative for a loving fiancé, but Tedros is desperate and grasps at the little control he has over this situation, as if letting go might kill him (it honestly just might).

They stay in this limbo for another week. Then it all comes crashing down.

It happens just before a session in the popular council, at the forum’s foyer.

Popular council’s sessions weren’t much different from the House of Lords’, in theory at least. Only, here the popular representatives weren’t appointed by Tedros (unlike the ministers) and were usually pleasant people in general (unlike the ministers), as well as all sessions being open to Camelot’s legal citizens. Normally, he just lets Agatha handle these, because _the people genuinely like her_ , even if she might want to argue otherwise. Why wouldn’t they? She was _smart, hardworking, clever, diligent, attentive…_

Ahem… he’s getting off topic.

Anyway, he’s more than happy to let Agatha preside over the popular council. He does have to make an appearance occasionally, mostly when there were referendums involved, but even rarer than Tedros being at the popular court at all, was to have a session attended by _both_ Agatha and Tedros.

However, he had been determined to power though the evening without much trouble. He was calm, civil and polite.

…Then proceeded to lose it as soon as he saw Agatha walk into the foyer.

He supposed another difference between popular council and the noble council came with the fact that popular council forum had no obligatory dress-code. Everyone still showed up in formal attire, out of tradition, but technically it wasn’t mandatory, just usual.

Tedros knows she doesn’t normally wear _full_ formal outfits to popular council. So, from a textbook standpoint, he has no right to be mad at Agatha (especially not with the sheer ferocity that he is, which is absolutely uncalled for) but he can’t bring himself to care, because Agatha _isn’t wearing her crown_. She wears it every single time the two of them attend any formal occasion together, including the rare shared-popular-council-meetings. Even when she’s pissed at him. The fact that right now she isn’t might go under everyone else’s radar without as much as a second thought, but he knows it’s a clear message to him.

His blood starts to boil. _So this is how it’s gonna be…?_

And just in case he hadn’t caught on to _that_ , the side glance his fiancée sends his way as she greets the representatives tells him she _knows_ he knows.

She might as well have slapped him across the face.

He grits his teeth, his short nails digging into the palm of his hand. The elected representative from the southeast part of Camelot, whom he had been making small talk with while they waited for the beginning of the session, seems to take notice of the sudden shift in his mood, awkwardly frozen in place midsentece as Tedros starts striding towards Agatha.

“Evening, _milady_ ,” he greets her dryly, ignoring the two representatives standing beside her. She turns around to face him, as if she was surprised he had the nerve to come call her out on her ploy.

“Evening, _your majesty_ ,” she greets back, staring holes onto him, crossing her arms, “what an absolute _pleasure_ it is to have you with us today. Truly, how _gracious_ of you to show up.”

“Oh, it is _delightful_ to be here. Before we go in and open the debate for the new food bank and solidary accords, would you be so _generous_ as to engage in a brief _private_ discussion with me?” Tedros not so much asks, as he _orders_ , the pleasant tone of his voice strained.

The pair of representatives steps back, panicked, but Agatha stands her ground.

“I’m afraid I cannot, _milord._ The session will begin very soon. If you have any grievances to sort out with me, I'm afraid you’ll need to wait until later, much like the rest of us,” she says in a clear voice, underlaying anger coming through, “…If you’re interested in sorting them out _at all_.”

“Then I’m afraid you must have _misunderstood_ me. Contrary to _some people_ , I have a lot of appreciation for the art of being concise and direct. It is most important, in service of being even-headed during the session, that we settle this matter _now_.”

“Oh, no, I understand you just fine. Loud and clear, my _king,_ ” she shoots, something changing in her collected expression as she steps towards him.

“Do you, now?”

“Why, yes. It’s an important matter _now_ , that we’re here, but it wasn’t _yesterday_ , correct? Or the day before that?”

“ _Agatha,_ ” Tedros chastises, lowly.

“Why would you wait so long to bring it up? Does it spark you some wicked kind of amusement to be _elusive_ and _ambiguous_?”

“You sure didn’t seem too keen in addressing it either last week, _milady_. I’ve been _giving you space_. I shall assure you this isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you.”

“Oh, you’re giving _me_ space? Then I’m afraid _you’re_ the one misunderstanding me. How _deliciously presumptuous_ of you.”

“At least I’m not the one being petty and making a scene,” he raises his voice.

“ _Aren’t you_? Then have I been talking to your ghost all this time?” Agatha mocks him, a wry smirk coloring her face. “Oh, wow, guess that would explain your history regarding your lack of coherence.”

“Excuse me for being thoughtful of our relationship! Thank you for confirming your lack of self-awareness!”

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t know ‘thoughtful’ if it hit you in the face!”

“ _Because you would?_ ” he stated in disbelief. “Come down of your high horse, Agatha! Actually, _don’t_. Let’s hear how great at problem solving _you_ are!”

“Well, excuse me for having actual feelings! You are such a…” Agatha’s voice cuts abruptly as she looks around.

Every single person on the foyer, from the representatives to the record-keeper, was staring at the two of them in absolute silence. Either shocked or horrified, or both. Shame consumes them, her neck and cheeks bursting red and Tedros’ hands getting sweatier and sweatier.

Her eyes find his, realizing they were all up in each other’s personal space, way closer than it would be considered appropriate. They stumble back, and she adverts her gaze, muttering a quiet _we’ll talk later_ , before turning on her heels and entering the forum’s main room, whose door was now open.

The King stays frozen for a short while. Then, he coughs awkwardly, casually asking the representatives to take their seats inside, as if he hadn’t just been airing his dirty laundry with his fiancée mere seconds before.

.

.

.

This is not the first time Tedros has been in her bedroom.

He had been there numerous times since his coronation, usually under much more… _pleasant_ circumstances, with varying degrees of success on being discreet about it. But never has his presence felt as _hostile_ as it does now.

Why they were here of all places, Agatha doesn’t know. When she stormed out after the session (which, if you’re curious, was like sitting through a social experiment on ‘what happens when you lock 30 representatives and 2 royal time-bombs in a room for four hours’, spoiler: _nothing good_ ) she wasn’t really thinking about where she was going and Tedros was pretty much just following after her trail of distress, like a bloodhound.

A few guards tried to stop them from entering the room together, but they didn’t insist after feeling the sheer chaotic energy the two of them must have been emanating. It probably was very powerful, because as soon as she opened the door Reaper came running like Satan himself was onto his tail, brushing past her, hissing at Tedros and then disappearing down the hall.

Inside, Agatha locks the door, closes her curtains, and sits on an armchair, gesturing casually for Tedros to sit wherever, as she untied her formal shoes. He chooses to stand beside the unlit fireplace, brooding with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, where do you wanna start?” he asks mockingly, meeting her eyes for the first time since their little spectacle at the foyer earlier.

“Take off your crown and sit down, Tedros,” she warns him.

He looks a bit shocked, like it didn’t occur to him that he may come across as pretentious, standing in a golden diamond crown while she is seated. For a brief second, he doesn’t move at all and Agatha feels like she might kill him, but then he does as she asked, sitting in the armchair across from her and placing his crown at the coffee table.

“Why weren’t you wearing your crown earlier?” he immediately demands.

Agatha sighs.

“To get your attention,” she answers candidly, watching his hands grab onto the arm rests.

“So you did it _on purpose_. To piss me off.”

“I did,” she admits, “I didn’t think you would be _that_ pissed, though. Why were you?”

Tedros fingers curl and uncurl around the elaborate wooden spiral design of the chair.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replies quietly, through gritted teeth.

“Well, then enlighten me,” she clicks her tongue. “Have you made that crown into some sort of magic leash? A collar with your initials and address on it? What am I, an animal?”

“ _Agatha,_ ” Tedros hisses, but Agatha doesn’t allow him to interrupt her.

“Should I just play dead, roll and bark? Want me to wear around your clothes to scent mark myself while I’m at it?” she continues. “Are you really that _insecure_? So insecure that the one thing that could get you to talk to me was me not weari…”

“So what if I am!” he explodes, talking over her. “What if I am, oh, _Saint Agatha_? What are you gonna do then? You know me. You _know_ me and chose me anyway. I’m not asking you to tattoo my name on your forehead or wear that goddamn thing to sleep! Would it kill you to do something to assure me of how you feel?”

“Ha, excuse you, _you_ ’re unsure about how _I_ feel about you?” she chipped in, incredulous.

“Sorry, must have missed your heartfelt midnight confession in the mist of all the mixed signals you were sending me. Oopsies!” he sneers.

“Oh, yeah. Nevermind the fact that I left everyone I’ve ever known behind and moved here, _with you,_ to start an ever after by your side! Nevermind _that_. Poor Tedros, paranoid that I don’t like him!”

“Well, it’s not paranoia if there’s truth to it, Agatha!” Tedros snaps, like a cornered animal. “What does it matter if you came here if you regret coming at all? What am I supposed to do with all those moments, with all those words if you leave? What does it matter that you say you love me if you take it back? I feel like a _fool,_ like I’m the only one making plans for our future!”

The sheer vulnerability in his voice nearly breaks her and makes Agatha swallow her original retort and change her accusing tone.

“Tedros,” she calls, as clearly and neutrally as she can, “where would I even go? I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“That’s not what you said, Agatha. You hate being here and you wish your true love wasn’t me,” his voice trembles when he pronounces her name, his eyes glistering with unshed tears.

“What? Tedros, I never said any of that,” she replies, softly, wishing could go hug him. She could, but she doesn’t, because the night is far from over and she feels like they’ve only just gotten to the tip of the iceberg.

“Yes, you did!” he exclaims, the sudden bitterness of the statement taking her by surprise.

_One step forward, three steps backwards._

“Don’t you dare lie to me!”

“I’m not!” she retorts frustrated. “Why are you attacking me?”

 _“I’m not!”_ Tedros shoots back, antagonistically. “I’m just waiting for you to stop lying to my face, Agatha!”

“Hm, hello, _when_ , in the history of ever, have I lied to you about my feelings!?”

“Oh, yes, I forgot. Perfect, Saint Agatha, the Good, doesn’t lie! Unlike us, mortals, she, who is seated by the right hand of the Father, has never lied. _She just omits crucial data_!”

“Have you gone completely mad?!” she rages. “What are you even talking about Tedros?!”

“Honestly if you plan to abandon me, the least you could’ve done was be outright cruel about it. Allow me to hate you! But you just couldn’t, could you? Bless your heart, you had to turn yourself into some type of martyr. You always… you always do that. You’re always the victim! Then I go ahead and feel bad for you, even though you’re the one who’s leaving _me!_ Because then, you’re not the bad guy! It’s not kindness, Agatha. You can’t keep lying to me, leading me on and then calling _that_ mercy! You don’t get to do that!” Tedros lashes out at her, the look on his face absolutely heartbreaking.

He looks a bit out of breath and Agatha takes notice of the fact that she had been holding hers.

“I never said any of that,” she whispers, her watery eyes meeting his.

“Maybe not to my face,” he relents, “but you wrote about it. To my _mom_ , of all people.”

Agatha thinks of the papers on her desk. At first, she thought confiding in the old queen was a good idea, but the longer she sat there trying to write, the more she realized it wasn’t.

“Tedros, I didn’t actually send any letters to your mom, I just needed to rant and sort out my feelings. I didn’t mea…wait,” she pauses mid-explanation, furrowing her brows. “You… _did you go through my stuff?!_ ”

He turns beet red, his mouth opening and closing, like a fish. She always thought he looked awfully cute when embarrassed, but now it’s the last thing on her mind.

 _“DID YOU?!” s_ he shouts, getting up from her chair, glaring at his frozen form.

Tedros swallows the bile climbing up his throat.

“I didn’t ‘go through anything’,” he answers, at last, “it was literally on top of your desk.”

Agatha snorted, crossing her arms.

“Which gives you the right to read it?”

“I didn’t mean to! If you hadn’t been avoiding me in the first place I wouldn’t have even found it!” he justifies, looking up at her, his grip in the armrests tightening.

“Oh, so you read my private correspondence and it’s somehow all my fault?!”

“I didn’t mean to read it!” he insists. “…But then I saw _my name_ , you were talking about me!”

“It still wasn’t your place to read that! It wasn’t even about you; it was about _me!_ ” she rages. “Does it not occur to you that maybe if I didn’t tell you it was because it was something private?”

“I thought we were done with keeping secrets from each other?!”

“Tedros I can’t exactly talk about my feelings about you to _you_!”

“So it was about me,” he points, triumphantly.

“No, I…” Agatha sits back down, fingers massaging her temples, trying to focus on what it is that they’re fighting about. Her silence seems to aggravate Tedros, whose temper starts rising again.

“ _It was about me,_ ” he repeats. “C’mon, I’m giving you the floor! Say what you want to say! Tell me everything I’ve been doing wrong, tell me how terrible I’ve been, how horrible it is to be here with me, how much better you are than me, how I can’t-”

“Can’t you just shut up for, like, two seconds? I’m actually trying to get us somewhere!” she snaps, interrupting him mid rant.

“And I’m not?” Tedros snaps back.

“Well it surely doesn’t look like it!” she retorts.

“Oh, excuse me, Saint Agatha, go on then, show me your ways!”

“Will you cut it out with the ‘Saint Agatha’ stuff!”

“I will, once you stop acting like you’ve got all the answers!”

“I never said I had any, Tedros! You always just assume things!”

“Then what _did_ you say, Agatha?” he questions, fuming. “Because you never say _anything_! How am I supposed to not assume! I can’t read your mind! You get mad when I don’t know why you’re upset and then you get mad when I just assume why!”

“You know, you could always just _ask_ , Tedros,” she whispers.

He sighs.

“You didn’t deny it, though.”

“What?”

“When I said that you didn’t make any plans for us,” he explains, “you didn’t deny it. Is that why you’re holding off the wedding? Because you can’t see a future with me?”

“Excuse me? _I’m_ holding off the wedding?” Agatha hisses. “Pretty sure _both of us_ agreed that it would be the best course of action!”

“Yeah, but only one of us looked _relieved_ after we decided that!”

“Well, I’m sorry for being relieved that we didn’t have to work ourselves to the brim of exhaustion for a ceremony I’m not even gonna get any say in anyway!”

“I… What? It's our wedding, of course you will!”

“As long as I agree with you, right? Who knows, you might decide on everything before even telling me the date, you know, just like _this time_! Lord forbid you ever ask my opinion on anything!”

“So you want to work on the wedding, but you also are relieved that there is no wedding to work on?” Tedros probes, mockingly. “Make up your mind!”

“The wedding is not the problem! I just don’t wanna stress about it on top of everything else. You know, some of us have to work! Good to know that you have your priorities in check!”

“Good to know our relationship isn’t a priority to you, Agatha!”

“Don’t make this into something it isn’t, Tedros,” Agatha warns. “I told you, that’s not the problem.”

“Is this entire fuss about a birthday party?” he asks, furiously letting go of one arm rest and running a hand through his hair. “It’s just a party! In fact, many people dream of having such a celebration dedicated to them! You should feel very lucky!”

She glares at him, as if waiting for him to catch on to the obvious answer that _no_ , this has never been about _just the birthday party_. Tedros, however, still looks as angry and clueless as before.

“ _Yeah_ , Tedros. You are _absolutely right_ , what a _brilliant deduction,_ ” she claps hollowly a couple of times. “My _dream_ has always been to be an ornament to Camelot’s high society, truly, what _more_ could I possibly wish for.”

He freezes, like she had struck him.

In the back of her mind, Agatha feels bad for it, but for now she just relishes in the fact that he paused, maybe actually _hearing her_ for the first time tonight. She needs him to hear her, because Agatha was _terrified_ , and she was tired of being terrified _alone_.

Their entire relationship had always been so dramatic, so loud. Honestly, sometimes she thinks back to those weeks in Galvadon, how they couldn’t manage to survive the quiet, the domestic, the _old_ , without Sophie to stir up some drama. Because they were going to get _old_. Marriage was scary because it implied forever, and forever is a long time to be with someone. Without the possibility of doomsday upon them, no wonder Tedros grew distant, busier. Why would he want quiet and domestic when he had shiny and regal?

She waits for him to respond, shifting uncomfortably on her chair. Perhaps Tedros finally realized that this fight was different from all others, as he offers her no response other then:

_“An ornament to Camelot’s high society, hm?”_

“Yes, I’m afraid things turned out to be quite different from what I planned for myself,” she continues. “Go ahead, tell me how ungrateful and selfish I sound in the face of my usual silent self-sacrificing tendencies.”

“Sounds like you’re already aware,” he mumbles. “Seems like even the Saints can’t be perfect after all.”

“I never claimed to be perfect, Tedros. I’m just a girl trying her best.”

“And I’m not trying at all?”

She opens her mouth to answer him, but changes her mind, instead crossing her arms and lying back on her chair, trying to relax.

“If you don’t stop doing that we’re gonna be here all night.”

Beneath his bitter scowl, Tedros looks genuinely confused.

“Doing what?”

“You _know_ I didn’t mean it like that,” she clarifies. “You’re baiting me. You’re not trying to understand my side, you just want to be right. If you’ve already made up your mind, no matter what I say, then maybe we should just turn in for the night and do this another time.”

Tedros finally lets go of the arm rests, breaking eye contact as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, supporting his head on his hands.

“I… I don’t wanna go to sleep feeling like _this,_ ” he admits, “Lord, I don’t wanna _feel_ like this ever again.”

“Me neither,” she replies softly.

Tedros rises from his chair, walking up to their portrait from their first week in Camelot, hanging on a wall nearby, like a distant echo from a time long gone. His fists clench and unclench, and he doesn’t look at her as he says, barely louder than a whisper:

“ _Then maybe you should go. Find someone who can fit into your dreams in all the ways I can’t._ ”

Agatha thinks her heart might have stopped beating.

“ _You don’t mean that,_ ” she barely manages to reply.

Silence stretches between them, heavier than ever before. Tedros keeps his eyes in the painting, running a hand through his hair, again, with no discernable expression in his face. Agatha stares at the golden crown on the coffee table.

A moment goes on for what feels like forever and a day, and between the things they said tonight, the things they didn’t for the past month and all their history, Agatha is not sure where this conversation is going. A darker part of her suggests that she’s not gonna like it.

She realizes, holding a quiet sob, that this really might be _it_. The end of their try at ever after bliss, the end of their little almost-happy ending. That maybe, it might just end like _this_ , not with some dramatic stunt pulled by The Storian, just the two of them realizing that maybe they weren’t meant to be after all.

She spent the last few years of her life fighting for a chance at _this_ , only for it to not work out in the end. It’s been so long, and Agatha nearly can’t think of what life would be like without him. At least, she wouldn’t have to be back to the way things were before. She could just go back to the School for Good and Evil, surely Sophie would take her in, and even if she didn’t, Hester had always told her she had a place with the Coven. Merlin would look after Tedros just fine until he found himself in love with the someone else who would be perfect for him.

The entire thing just makes Agatha nauseous and she thinks she might faint and…

“ _I don’t._ Agatha, I…”

Tedros lets the sentence dangle unfinished, still fixated in the portrait, but she can’t stand this any longer. She couldn’t stand not knowing where they stood, couldn’t stand letting the silence overtake them again.

She rushes to him, locking herself around him from behind, burying her face between his neck and his shoulder.

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” she asks against his sweaty skin.

“Stay. Please, just… _stay,_ ” he begs quietly, holding her arms around his torso like a lifeline, “look, if you’re tired of all this fancy royal stuff, if you’re… If you’re tired of _me_ , I get it…It’s…Well, not fine, but… _God_ , Agatha, just please don’t leave me, okay?”

“Who said I was leaving you?” she half-sobs/half-laughs. “I told you, this honestly isn’t about you, I’m sorry I made you think it was.”

“Agatha, you said so yourself,” he says, untangling himself, turning around to face her. Tedros looks like a mess and she has no doubt that she does too. “… I _know_ you. You hate the lavish gowns, the huge parties, the big castle, the fancy food and the never-ending paperwork. It really doesn’t get more _high-society-ornament_ than this.”

“Even if I don’t exactly love those things, that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be with you…”

“But this _is_ me, Agatha! I’m vain, and high-maintenance and selfish, and I come with way too many strings attached! Maybe you felt a bit forced into this..."

“Tedros, you’re really not that bad. You’re just not. In fact, I think you’re pretty great,” she tells him, forcing him to look into her eyes. “I love you, you idiot.”

He stares at her with tear filled baby blue eyes and that look of just pure love and adoration that has been doing all kinds of things to her insides for years now. His face is all swollen and reddish, his hair looks like he rode a horse for week straight and _my Lord, does he look handsome_.

“Just pretty great?”

Agatha steps back to push him away, but he is quicker, pulling her in for a kiss. It’s as messy as you would expect, considering that they’re both still crying and Tedros’ palms are bleeding from where he dug his nails into his skin, not even mentioning that now they’re both sweaty.

It feels good, perhaps a bit too much, which is why she lightly pushes at his chest, despite his protests.

“You know, we still need to talk about some things, right? I don't hate the paperwork and actually really like the fancy food, but... ”

“Well, do you have any plans for the next, hm, let’s say, 80 years?”

She chuckles mid-sob.

“No, not really.”

“Then we've got time. I think we’ll be just fine,” he answers, as if everything could be that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was so clever, having this contrast between no dialogue, some dialogue and then a long-ass dialogue filled scene. End me please.  
> If you're wondering where the rest of this conversation is, consider checking out my next work!  
> As usual, please tell me your thoughts!
> 
> 21/05/20 edit note: I'd like to give a shoutout to Lola (@sophiesfairygodroach on instagram) for proofreading this, she's great, go show her some love!


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